Queer as Folk Alphabet
by Fly Raven. Fly
Summary: Moments between characters on our favorite show based on the alphabet. Pretty self explanatory.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My new project! Yay. Queer as folk… Alphabetized. From A to Z, one-shots based on our favorite people. (Gus, Brian, and Justin will probably be the centre of most of them… Whoops.) And if you have any ideas for the letters, I'm all ears. (all eyes?) I'm more of a humour type of gal, so that is probably the general genre for the gist of this. **

**Disclaimer: No. I don't own this amazing TV show, and alas, I never will. **

**A is for Accelerator. **

"Faster! C'mon, faster Papa, that guy's in front of you!"

"I'm going as fast as I can." Justin barked to the bouncing five year old in the seat next to him in the arcade. Faster, faster, you stupid fucker, he urged the racing game, trying to gain speed. Just his luck that the accelerator wasn't working properly. And because of it, he doubted he'd be able to hear out of his right ear for the next couple days. Thank you, Gus. I can definitely feel the love.

"Well, you need to go faster." Justin could see Gus out of the corner of his eye, scowling at the screen displaying the two vehicles in the lead. One more lap, come on!

"I'm trying Gus, but you see it won't let me go any faster, my foot is already pushing the accelerator to the floor and—Oh come on you stupid son of a bitch!"

If Justin were paying any attention to anything but the stupid car who ran him into the wall, he would probably be thankful that Gus was too busy yelling at the game to pay any mind to him cursing, otherwise Justin was sure he would be out of spare pocket change.

"Gah! No, no, no, no, no _no! _You're in third now, come on catch up and beat those losers!" Justin heard a thumping noise and was pretty sure Gus had stomped his foot. He felt like doing the same thing at the moment, if that didn't mean he would fall behind some more, of course.

Justin growled. "Child, can you not see that is what I'm trying to do?"

"I don't think you're going fast enough."

"I can't go any faster!" Justin whined, cursing his too-short-legs and the seat that was stuck in one position. "Gus, sit on the accelerator."

"_What?_" he squawked.

"You want me to go faster don't you?"

Gus growled, but climbed around Justin's legs, and sat on the gas peddle as soon as Justin moved his foot. Sure enough, he went a bit faster, and gained on the car currently in second.

"What's going on? I can't see anything! Are you winning?" Called Gus' voice.

"I just passed the guy in second and am trying to go around this guy in first. Shit! We're almost to the finish line!"

He felt a little hand grip his calf and shake it. "Hurry, hurry! You can't lose to a _computer_!"

"I'm trying. Just—a—little—bit—yes! I passed him. Almost to the finish line… _Woohoo!_" Justin whooped, as the car crossed, and the camera spun around the car that was now driving on its own, with _Winner _written across the screen. He let his hands fall from the steering wheel and gripped Gus under the armpits to lift him from the accelerator and spin him around.

But their victory was bit short. A question of, "What the fuck are you doing?" from behind them cut off their hollers and cheers.

They turned to look at the entrance of the movie-theatre arcade, and saw Brian standing there with an eyebrow raised and a smirk as he gazed at them. Justin then noticed the other occupants in the room giving them strange looks as they exclaimed over there win.

Justin and Gus exchanged sheepish grins and looked at Brian. Gus answered in a meek, "Playing video games?" And Justin felt a blush on his cheeks when Brian laughed at them.

**Review?**

**-Soho**


	2. Chapter 2

***blinks***

***points at story***

***walks away blushing with head bowed***

**Disclaimer: Yeah…. No. I only wish I owned these fabulous characters.**

**B is for Badinage-Concerning-Badious**

"—and I just saw this wonderful, badious pair of boots—"

"I'm sorry, you saw _what_?" Brian interrupted the conversation Emmett and Justin were having over breakfast at the diner. Something about Emmett's shopping spree the day before.

Emmett huffed and glanced at Brian, who had an eyebrow raised at the queen in disbelief. He rolled his eyes and answered impatiently, "I _said, _I saw a wonderful pair of badious boots—"

"What the fuck is 'badious' supposed to be?" Brian interrupted again, which seemed to irritate Emmy Lou. Too bad, he wanted to know.

"It means chestnut colored." He dismissed Brian by turning back to Justin. "As I was _saying, _right as I was about to grab them—"

"Then why didn't you just say chestnut?" Brian the-bane-of-Emmett's-existence Kinney asked impertinently.

Justin snickered as Emmett scowled and promptly ignored him. "This woman comes out of nowhere, and tries to grab them! And believe you me, honey, with her skinny little—"

"I mean, it would've caused a lot less confusion. Unless… Did Theodore give you that damn word-a-day calendar? I thought I broke that thing…"

Emmett made a sound of impatience. "What," he ground out, "Do you _want?_"

Brian looked back innocently. "I just asked a question, and you never answered. Which, Auntie Em, is quite rude—"

"Yes, well, I don't want to answer you. Now, if you could kindly stop being so barathrum concerning questions and answers—"

"_Barathrum?_" Brian asked incredulously. "He did give you that calendar, didn't he? I knew it. What the fuck does that one mean?"

Emmett made his hands into claws on the table as he replied through gritted teeth, "It _means _an insatiable person. In your instance, insatiable when it comes to asking questions." He glared.

"Why 'B's', Em?" Justin suddenly piped up curiously. Brian cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for clarification.

"B's?" Emmett questioned.

"Both of your 25-cent words both started with B's. Why?"

"Maybe he was fucked by a guy who spouted random words beginning with 'B' every time he humped." Brian mused.

"No." Emmett protested. "I most certainly was not."

"What's wrong, Emmy Lou?" Brian mocked. "You don't like our badinage?"

Justin chuckled and turned towards his lover. "Badinage?"

"Yes." Brian nodded. "That B-letter word means playful banter. I figured I'd throw out some words too, so Emmett doesn't feel left out of course."

"Of course." Justin replied in obvious amusement.

"Stupid, irritating, batrachivorous asshole." Emmett muttered.

Brian stared at him. "What did you just call me?"

"Doesn't that mean something about frogs?" Justin inquired. Brian now stared at him.

"I know you randomly pop up with bullshit that is pretty useless, but how do you know _that?_"

Justin chuckled, and took a sip of his coffee. "I'm pretty sure I heard it during biology. Something about some animal that ate frogs."

"It means frog-eating, baby." Emmett replied, happy that Justin knew what it meant.

"You called me a frog-eating asshole?" Brian still seemed to be incredulous.

"No," Justin said calmly. "He called you a stupid, irritating, frog-eating asshole." He emptied a pack of sugar into his coffee, not looking at Brian. "Big difference."

Emmett laughed, and Brian glared at him. "You still haven't said where you were getting all these words."

Emmett waved his hand in dismissal. "Not important. I'm tired of your bavardage, now let me talk to Justin."

"Another one?" Justin asked, glancing at Emmett from pouring over his coffee with sugar packets and cream. He looked remarkably like a mad scientist at the moment, in Brian's opinion.

Emmett sighed, seemingly accepting the fact that he couldn't continue his discussion. "Yes. It means insignificant chatter or prattle." He looked meaningfully at Brian.

Who turned away and ignored him. Emmett sighed and turned his full attention back to Justin. "Now, that woman who tried to steal my boots—"

"Good Morning." Melanie said to the three as she came in with her suitcase. She blinked at Emmett when he screamed and dropped his head onto the table. "What's wrong with him?" she asked the other two.

"He's been rambling on about large, B-letter words all morning. It's irritating, especially when he won't tell us where he got them all." Brian glared at the top of Emmett's head, as if that would make him suddenly tell them why he's suddenly become a b-lettered dictionary.

"No, his problem is, is that you've been irritating _him_ by not letting him tell his story, and keep badgering him," he ignored Brian's growl at yet another word beginning with B, "about where he learned all these words, specifically just to annoy him."

"He's been saying these words like, frog eating, and chestnut, and prattling and shit." Brian defended.

Melanie sighed and held up a hand before Justin could argue back. "I'm sorry I ever asked about this bêtise betwixt you three. I honestly could care less. Now, Brian, let me bewray a little secret. It doesn't matter if you are a bibacious bibliophilic bitch, Emmett might've just looked at a dictionary. Now, if you'll excuse me Sir Belonephilia, I'm going to inform Debbie that you three might need a bersatrix, and am going to grab a coffee so I can go to work. Bye bye." Ignoring the dumbfounded lookes she was getting from the three, she did just that, and walked out the door without looking back.

Brian picked his jaw up from where it was hanging on the table and looked at the other two. "What the fuck did she just say?"

They just shook their heads.

**So I think I had a little too much fun with this one… A couple of these words I actually have heard before in a normal conversation (like batrachivorous). **

**Now, for the definitions from Melanie's spiel;**

**Bêtise: foolish situation.**

**Betwixt: between.**

**Bewray: to divulge. **

**Bersatrix: a baby-sitter.**

**Bibacious: overly fond of drinking**

**Bibliophilic: fear of books.**

**Belonephilia: sexual obsession with sharp objects. **

**If you've enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, you should review and tell me which word was your favorite. Or suggest a topic for a letter, I'm not picky :]**

**-Soho **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: So this is set in 2008, we'll say Justin came back from New York and is currently living in Britin with Brian, though they aren't married. Kay?**

**Also, it's during the time California decided that "only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California." Otherwise known as Prop 8.**

**C is for Careers**

"It's fucking bullshit." Brian heard his lover curse from behind him. "Everything about it. Just… Ugh!"

Brian turned from the counter where he was tossing the salad for dinner, upon Justin's request, and saw the blonde reading the newspaper next to the stove, a scowl marring his features.

"What's fucking bullshit?" Brian asked, although he had a strong feeling that he already knew.

His partner grimaced in disgust and set the offending paper on the counter so he could flip the chicken breasts in the frying pan. "Prop 8. Fucking California. So much for Emmett and Marcus getting married this winter, huh?"

Brian sighed. Marcus was Emmett's fiancé that he met during one of his party planning excursions. Some hag in Pittsburgh gave Emmett's number to her sister who had lived in California, and was one of the senator's secretary's. Her boss' anniversary was coming up, and she needed someone quick and efficient who wouldn't embarrass anyone with an abysmal party. So, she got Emmett, who immediately flew out, created the party of the year, and met Marcus, a lawyer, and son of some-one-or-another. They began dating while he was there, and continued while Emmett came back to Pittsburgh. Marcus asked Emmett to move in with him, and then marry. They had been living in California for the past couple months together, and were going to be married in December.

But since Prop 8, and the whole before November, 5, 2008, thing, it seemed unlikely now.

Brian shook his head and tuned back in to Justin's rant. "—figures this would happen. And now that big-bad California is doing this, pretty soon every State will follow willingly, fucking homophobe extremists."

Brian didn't say anything, knowing Justin wasn't finished, and figuring if he said anything at the moment, that would probably land him with Justin with-holding sex, considering Brian seemed to mange to put his foot in his mouth during these kinds of situations.

He looked towards the stairs, wondering where his son was. He was visiting for Thanksgiving break, and Brian figured he'd be demanding money for the cuss jar out of Justin.

"—stupid narrow-minded fuckers. Closeted, stupid, narrow-minded fuckers. _Ugh, _I jus can't believe them. Someone should cut their heads off. And I'm not talking about the ones on their shoulders." Justin stabbed the chicken breast to conclude his point, and Brian winced.

He cleared his throat and turned back towards the counter. There was a silence only cut by Justin's scattered mumbling's and cursing for the next couple minutes.

Until there was pounding footstep's coming down the stairs, and his son's voice yelling, "Dad! Hey Daddy! Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad!" until he was standing in the doorway grinning, and exclaimed. "Hey! I know what I wanna be when I grow up!"

Brian raised an eyebrow at the eight-year old that had spent his break fretting over a paper he had to write on what he wanted to be when he was older, and why. He had tried everything from ice-cream man, to zoo keeper, to astronaut, to helicopter pilot in a matter of days. "Yeah?" he asked curiously.

Gus nodded and hopped on a bar stool on the other side of the counter. "Yup. I've decided I want to be a business man, then a senator, then governor, then President."

Brian raised the other eyebrow now. "President?"

Gus nodded again, playing with a napkin he grabbed from the holder. "Uh huh. That way, I can make it so Auntie Em, and Marcus, and you and Papa, and all those other guys can get married anywhere you want." Gus paused and tilted his head. "How cool would it be if you could get married on the moon?"

**Okay, so I'm sorry it just cut off like that, but that's how I felt it should end. So you guys can use your imagination [: **

**My niece, who is four, actually said this. Her cousin Brandon is gay and he and his partner can't be married legally where they live. My sister and I were talking about it, and her daughter came in with a solution that she would be president so they could get married. **

**Anyway, I love reviews! And thanks to everyone who already has, you people rock. Seriously, they make me smile and want to write more. **

**I'm open for suggestions on topics for any letter, so feel free :]**

**Later -Soho**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I just use the characters for my own personal enjoyment, Queer as Folk, sadly, is not mine.**

**D is for Dresses**

"Tell me again, why we are here?" Brian asked with a grimace as he looked around the crowded cafeteria, where giggles and voices rose to a new decibel. He stepped back quickly as a little girl ran in front of him, the milk on her tray wobbling precariously close to the edge.

"Because your son asked you to since every other parent volunteers at the school at least once. And because Lindsay blackmailed you, but we'll just leave that part out of this, shall we?" Justin replied mildly, balancing his own tray and walking over to Gus who was sitting next to his friend Emily, and waving them over.

Brian sighed because he knew Justin was right, and followed the blonde over to the bench, and sat next to his excited son, across from Justin and Emily.

"Mr. Jus'sin can you open this, please?" Emily asked, holding her water bottle out to Brian's partner. He smiled brightly and opened it for her.

"There you go, sweetie."

"—and then Tristan, this jerk who always picks on Megan and David, the twins in our class, poured glue in her hair, Dad! Glue! And Megan cried lot's, and David kicked him for being mean to his sister, so the Jerk pushed him into one of the desk's even though Miss Dickenson was yelling at them and David threw one of the fold-y chairs at him! So Tristan Jerk Face had a big cut and bruise on his face and David got sent home and Megan had to get her hair cut which is not cool."

"She had really pretty hair." Emily piped in to Gus' rant, who was relaying all the drama from Nap Time to Brian. "It was really, really long. Now it's short, like shorter than her ears, but she likes it and teases the boys and says she still looks prettier than them, even with short hair like theirs. Tristan doesn't like that much."

Brian shook his head and shared an amused glace with Justin who was grinning at the two children.

Gus nodded. "Tristan doesn't like a lot of stuff."

"Yeah, but that's 'cause Tristan is just a—oh no!" Emily lamented, her spilled water darkening the front of her jeans quickly. Justin grabbed extra napkins from the holder in the middle of the table and wiped up the liquid on the table and her plate.

"Hah, hah! Emily peed her pants!" A little boy from down the table shouted out, laughing. This started to make the other kids around them laugh at her, and Emily blush and start to cry.

Gus scowled and stood up on the bench, swatting his father's hands away when he tried to make him sit down. "Shut up, Tristan!"

The brat—Tristan, Brian thought—just laughed harder. Gus narrowed his eyes, and before Brian could blink, he jumped off the bench, was around the table, and gabbing Emily's hand. He walked over to their teacher, and Justin and Brian saw Gus wave the hand that wasn't holding Emily's, and the teacher smiled guiding Gus and Emily into the classroom attached to the cafeteria.

Brian raised his eyebrows and him and Justin continued to clean the mess while the kids still laughed at "Emily Wet Her Pants". The finished and Brian turned to ask Justin if they should go find the two runaway's, when the cafeteria quieted down for a moment, then promptly burst into guffaws once more. He glanced at Justin whose eyes were watering, and had a hand over his mouth to suppress laughter.

He turned around and saw Emily and Gus walk over to him still holding hands. Only this time, while Emily was still wearing her damp jeans, Gus was wearing one of the princess dresses that were hung up in the classroom for Play Time. Emily was smiling and Gus was talking to her animatedly.

As they got within hearing range, Brian heard his son say, "See, Emily? I told you. They're not laughing at you, they're laughing at me."

**Reviews?**

**-Soho**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So… This isn't like the other drabbles, it has angst in it. This is probably the most angst-y thing I've done for QAF. So, uhm, enjoy? **

**Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine, probably not ever going to be mine. *sigh***

**E is for Escape.**

He was drowning,

That was the only word he could use to describe the surrounding darkness. Everywhere, all around him, he was suffocating, and couldn't touch anything. It was just _there. _Nothing under his feet, nothing around or above him, just black. He screamed and screamed, but he couldn't hear his own voice. Oh, God.

Get out. He had to get out.

He ran. Ran, and ran, and ran, but nothing changed. He turned around, spinning wildly, and sobbed. Why can't he get out?

There! A door, in the middle of oblivion. He sprinted towards it, desperate to escape. To get away from the blackness.

His hand touched the doorknob, and twisted.

And a body fell from the dumpster at his feet. Fuck, oh shit, oh shit, _no. _

Its face turned towards him, looked up at him, despite the fact it was dead. Christ, why couldn't it just stay _dead. _

"It could've been you. You could've been where I am. Why aren't you where I am?" it asked, horrible gravely words coming from its decaying mouth. "I didn't want this. I didn't deserve this. But you did. You asked for it, flaunting in front of him. You should be where I am. Not me."

He shook his head, no. No. Not me. No, no. He turned, tried to get away from it, from the dumpster.

And walked back into the black. Only this time, there were voices.

Voices, angry, raised and shouting. Desperate whispers, sobs and begging. Laughter, loud cackles, taunts from every direction.

"_Fucking fag."_

"_C'mon pussy boy, I thought you liked cock? Huh?"_

"_No son of mine is a fucking faggot."_

"_Wake up, please. Please wake up."_

"_We're losing him. Clear!"_

"_No. No!" _

"_Justin!"_

And he turned at that last turn, he knew that voice. He turned and found himself in a garage. Turned and saw Brian's desperate expression as he screamed. Turned to see Hobbs, his face contorted, so loathing, so angry. He turned straight into the bat.

And he fell again; fell down and down and down and down…

Fell until he was on a pure white floor, smelling of antibacterial spray, and something… Something else. Something he couldn't decipher. Something just under the smell of the spray, something that is tried to cover up.

He stood, placing his hand on a counter next to him to lift himself up. He looked around the room. It looked like a hospital. Fluorescent lights giving the room an eerie white glow. Counters placed against two walls in the room. A bed in the middle of the room, with a white sheet placed over it.

It moved. Fuck. Was someone _in _here?

He was at the side of the bed suddenly, and moved the sheet down.

And saw his own—dead—face looking up at him through glazed eyes.

And screamed, screamed and screamed and screamed.

Until he opened his eyes and saw Brian staring anxiously at him, holding both of his arms. Justin thrashed, shaking his head, still stuck in that room. No, no no. Have to get out. It's not real. Not real. Get out. Get _out_, have to escape, please.

He didn't realize he was talking aloud until Brian held him close, whispering evenly, with only a slight tremor in his voice.

"Justin, calm down, you're out, you're not there anymore. Come back, Justin, c'mon, calm down. You're here, with me, shh. You're out Justin. Breathe, slowly, like that. That's good, just like that. There you go." He soothed, running his hand up and down Justin's back.

Justin closed his eyes and leaned into Brian's chest, into his soothing words and caress running over him. He breathed in Brian's scent, and escaped.

**So, I was going to do E for Effect, as suggested in a review. But this bunny came out of nowhere and kicked me in the head. Stupid bunny.**

**Review's make me happy (and a happy me, equals a writing me.)**

**-Soho**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Heh. Lupin111 suggested 'fanfic' for F, and I just couldn't resist.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Queer as Folk, or Harry Potter. Brian and Justin belong to Cowlip, and Harry Potter and Draco belong to the genius that is J.K. Rowling. Pity. **

**F is for Fanfiction**

When Brian arrived at the loft, he found Justin sitting in front of the computer with his chin in his left hand and his legs crossed, scrolling slowly.

The sound of the door opening didn't seem to alert the blonde whatsoever, so Brian decided to creep behind him and see what had him so captivated.

When he did, he had to blink twice for it to begin to comprehend.

"What the fuck?" He asked, baffled.

Justin's response was to jump, and quickly try to exit out of the window, but realizing Brian saw it, left it up. He turned slowly to face his dumbfounded lover, and asked meekly, "How was work?"

Brian blinked again, and looked at the computer. Then Justin. Then the computer again. "What. The fuck."

"Uhm, it's called a website?" Justin coughed awkwardly.

"Fanfiction dot net. That I got. But… What the fuck is this about Malfoy and Potter?"

Justin flushed. "It's called slash?"

Brian read a couple lines on the screen. "Yeah, so I gathered. They hate each other, though. Who wrote this? Why are you reading this?"

"They may hate each other in the books, but that's just 'cause Rowling didn't want to upset the readers by having blatantly gay Antagonist and Protagonist. And it doesn't matter who wrote it. And I'm reading it, 'cause I think Harry and Draco are just too adorable."

Brian gaped at him, though he would deny ever doing such a thing. "What have you been smoking now? Does Anita have something new, and didn't think to tell me? They are not gay, they hate each other."

Justin shook his head and gazed at Brian in what looked like pity. "Haven't you ever heard that there's a fine line between love and hate? Besides, it's totally obvious."

"Oh yeah, you can definitely see the harts and butterflies while they're hexing and trying to get the other killed." Brian scoffed.

"No, really." Justin insisted. "I mean, they're totally obsessed with the other, especially Harry with Draco in his sixth year. And Draco is obviously just being cruel to Harry to get his attention. It's like the little boy who pulls the hair of the girl he has a crush on. And Draco is only so bitter because Harry refused his offer of friendship in first year, and then turns around and is best friends with Ron."

Brian shook his head. "That's because Malfoy was such an ass when they first met. And if they so obviously want each other, I doubt Harry would even think about it after Malfoy was going to kill Dumbledore. And Malfoy, if he did want Harry, must've known he wouldn't've gained any brownie points there. And maybe they act like that to the other, because they despise each other. Which, they do."

"If Harry really despised Malfoy, why would he save his life in the Room of Requirement?"

Brian stared at Justin in disbelief. "Because he's not evil, and even if he hates the person, he would still try to save another human being's life?"

"At the risk of his own?" Justin countered. "I don't think so. And all the violence and shit is just unresolved sexual tension."

"You're fucking crazy. Absolutely insane."

"No, just right." Justin grinned.

Brian shook his head and backed up with his hands raised in surrender. "Whatever, while you get off on that Harry/Draco shit—"

"Smut, fluff, angst. Mostly smut." Justin supplied helpfully.

"—_whatever, _I'm going to take a shower. Fucking fangirl, obsessed twat." He shook his head once again and stripped on his way to the shower.

Justin sighed happily and returned his attention back to the computer.

**It ran away from me. My apologies. I have this argument with my sister daily, so I know how debatable this can be.**

**I just thought it would be funny to have Justin hooked on H/D slash. **

**So, I've finished W, and X. Any suggestions for other letters?**

**Reviews make me smile **

**-Soho**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: boriqua522 suggested that G be for either 'Gus' or 'Gun'. I decided to go with Gun, but not exactly what was suggested, but with a slight twist. I hope you enjoy.**

**G is for God and Guns**

Brian Kinney could recall only a handful of times where he has prayed. Naturally, he didn't do it often, considering he wasn't even sure he believed in God. Only when he was so desperate, so hopeless, that he couldn't think of anything else to do.

The very first he could remember, was when he was eight, lying in a pool of his own blood and vomit. He had been sick for the past two days and didn't keep the house spotless. Didn't answer his father's question fast enough, as it took a moment to comprehend through his fever fogged brain. He moved too slowly, and his father ended up catching him. He could still remember his teeth snapping against each other, and his head spinning wildly as he was lifted off his feet and jerked back and forth as he was screamed at, spittle flying in his face, and his stomach threatened an upheaval. He remembered his small body being thrown down, onto, into the coffee table, remembered his face bleeding, and a small child's panic as it wouldn't stop. As it became too much, and it hurt so fucking bad he vomited on his mother's pristine carpet. Remembered being too weak to move from where he lay in the bile as his father took another bottle from the cabinet. Remembered his mother's hushed, reverent prayers from the other room. Remembered being alone, and wishing he wasn't. Remembered thinking he was going to die there, as his vision swam in and out and he whimpered, biting his own tongue hard so he wouldn't be heard. He remembered begging, God, please; please just make it _stop…_

The second time was when he was seventeen. He found a family, people who actually cared about him, who he would protect against anything or anyone who would try to harm them. And one of his family ended up in the hospital, fighting against a disease Brian couldn't protect him against. He recalled how sic Vic looked lying in the bed, how his skin was as pale as the sheets draping over his thin frame. Debbie cried, and cried and cried as she was told that her brother was probably going to die. Michael cried, too. His family was hurting, and he couldn't stop it. He sat by Vic's side, and prayed that he would get better, that they would stop hurting, thinking these people didn't deserve this. There are so many awful, hurtful people in the world, and this fucking amazing family is the one suffering? They don't deserve this. God, they don't fucking deserve this.

Justin could be dying. Fuck, he's in that hospital room, and he could be dead any second. His head could be smashed in completely. He could've lost too much blood. Justin could die. His Sunshine might die. Oh, God please, please, please don't let him die. Please, oh fuck please, it's my entire fucking fault, just don't let him die, oh god his blood is on my hands… Please, God. Please. For the third time in his life, he prayed.

And now. As he stared out the window in the loft, and Justin ran around with that fucking Cody, a gun in his hands, determined to right everything. Brian prayed. He prayed that Justin would come home safely. That Sunshine wouldn't do something to make him hate himself. He prayed that he could heal properly. That this amazing, innocent man-boy would stop hurting. That he wouldn't use that gun he had. That he wouldn't have the police knock on his door, telling him Justin was wanted for murder, or that he was lying somewhere, dead.

He prayed that Justin would just come home, safely, without that fucking gun.

**This one was slightly difficult for me, and I'm not very happy with it, but I wanted to update this weekend. **

**Reviews are welcome, whether to criticize me, or to compliment. Any type is welcome with opened arms. **

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far, you are amazing.**

**-Soho**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own the yummy wonders of Queer as Folk.**

**H is for Halloween Costumes**

"I don't give a flying fuck. You can go romping like a naked monkey in the Sahara desert in the mean time for all I care, but I want that image on my desk tomorrow morning." Brian Barked into his cell phone as he stepped off the elevator heading into the loft.

He rolled his eyes irritably as the stupid fucking incompetent director of his art department spluttered out excuses. He inserted the key into the lock on the door and pulled it open. "Tomorrow morning. If not, then you won't have enough money to go to the Sahara because you'll be without—a job…" He trailed off as his eyes landed in the middle of the living room.

There, humming and twirling happily, was Emmett wearing a short red dress with a white stripe across the middle, white tights, black buckle shoes, and a curly, orange wig.

Brian shut his phone, cutting off the rambling voice on the other side. "Scarred. I am officially scarred for life. More so than the time I walked in on Mikey and the Professor fucking. So this definitely says something."

Emmett had abruptly stopped humming and now faced Brian with his hands on his hips, his wig twitching. "What?" He asked idly. He brushed a piece of lint off his skirt. "You don't like it?"

"I'll have nightmares for weeks. I'll never look at the color red the same way. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Emmett harrumphed. "Your fiancé and I are trying on our Halloween costumes, we bought them today for that costume contest at Babylon. And there is nothing wrong with Annie!"

Brian shook his head as he carefully removed his suit jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. Rolling up his sleeves, he asked. "Oh, is that what it's supposed to be?" Then, he paled slightly as something occurred to him. "He's not wearing the same getup, right? Nothing matching? He's not going to come out in some Dorothy costume with ruby red slippers, and all that shit?"

The Emmett/Annie hybrid huffed. "Even if we were going to do something like that, it would be perfectly fine. But no," he stated after seeing Brian's warning glare. "He is not, no matter how much I insisted he should be Goldilocks."

"Well then what, or more importantly where, is he?"

"Right here," Chirped a familiar voice from behind him, and turning around to face his partner, Brian felt his mouth go dry. "And I've decided to be a devil. With some minor adjustments." Justin grinned and struck a pose. "What d'ya think?"

Brian swallowed. Minor adjustments included not going for the customary red, instead wearing inky black, skin tight leather. Pants that showed off every curve—and bulge—it looked like a glossy second skin, which tucked into knee high, lace up, pointed leather boots. He wore a form-fitting, short-sleeve silk black shirt—in the back of his clouded mind, Brian remembered buying that shirt for him—that molded to his shoulders and upper arms. More leather, fingerless gloves, stopped at his elbows, and Brian saw he wore fake very sharp looking black nails, filed to points. In one hand he held a small metal, three pronged pitchfork, which matched the curved horns protruding from his spiky, blonde hair. His lips were painted red and curved in a—ha, ha—devilish grin, and bright blue eyes gazed out at him through heavily lined, half lidded eyelids.

Brian heard a badly stifled laugh from behind him, and he barely even registered the fact that he was gawking. He slowly started towards the fucking sexy man in front of him, and heard Emmett clear his throat and mumble his goodbyes.

His hasty exit didn't affect Brian in the slightest, as he now had Justin pressed tightly against him, and could feel every contour of the blonde's body. He raked his nails—much less sharp than Justin's—against the leather clad things.

"So you never said." Justin said softly, gripping Brian's hair tightly and pushing his hips against his fiancé's. "You like?"

"Mmmm" The brunette hummed drinking in the body before him, which he never seemed to tire of. "I must have a whip here somewhere." He murmured distractedly.

Justin chuckled, and after nibbling on his earlobe, purred, "You're in luck. I picked one up to go with the costume."

And on that note, Brian was led into the bedroom and very seriously considered making Halloween his new favorite holiday.

**So. :] **

**Hope you like it. I adore reviews *nudge***

**-Soho**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. **

**I is for…**

Isolated.

That was how Justin felt when he was trapped in his own mind, where he seemed to be more often than not lately.

Cut-off. Separated. And so fucking alone it hurt.

But he wasn't separated from anyone, he knew. He was being stupid. He still went to the diner, he went to school, and Babylon and hung around the gang and Daphne. He wasn't lonely.

But he was by himself, trapped with his own thoughts and fears and emotions and boundaries and nightmares. He was with his own guilt, his own disgust, his own pathetic fucking self.

Him and his worthless self, isolated from the world around him as his mind tore apart his own sanity.

That's what it felt like now, at least. Sitting in the booth at the diner, his breakfast in front of him as Michael and Brian talked, and Emmett prattled on and on about some new shirt at Torso. As Debbie bustled around, yelling, and smacking her gum.

As he smiled and laughed, and the voice in his head tore him to pieces because there were _so many people_ and he wanted to curl into a ball and weep until everything stopped being so frightening.

As the voice screamed at him

_(fucking coward!)_

And his head pounded and everywhere he glanced

_(pathetic piece of shit)_

He saw the shine of a baseball bat coming at him.

_(worthless. Smile fucktard! Smile wide so they don't toss you out sooner than they will. Come on, little helpless child, actually act like you're worth something so they won't see! Stupid. You think they want you here? You think anyone wants you here? It's guilt. All guilt. Nobody wants you. Your own father hates your fucking disgusting guts. How's that feel, honey? You made your parents divorce, they used to be happy until you opened your fucking piece of shit mouth. Whine, whine, whine baby boy. Go on. Tell everyone how you feel, tell them! But nobody wants to hear, do they? Brian tells you not to talk about it because he. Doesn't. Care. Get it through your brainless fucking head. Nobody cares. It's guilt. Allllllllll guilt. Guilt, guilt, guilt. You shouldn't even be here right now. You should be six feet under, since it was your fault he came at you with that bat. You deserved it. You shouldn't've gotten out alive. Worthless, weak, disgusting little baby. Go on, go on you piece of shit, smile. Smile wide.)_

Brian turned to look at him, and raised his eyebrow. Justin smiled wide and rolled his eyes at Emmett. Brian turned back around, and Justin was isolated inside his mind once again.


	10. Chapter 10

**J is for Jealousy **

He loved his little sister. He really did. She irritated him, sure, and they fought. It didn't mean he didn't love her.

It also didn't mean that he didn't envy her, almost completely.

There was an eight year difference. He was in fourth grade when she was born, beautiful, perfect, Molly. At first, he was ecstatic that they were going to have a baby in the house. He was going to be the best big brother ever.

She was beautiful. Like a little porcelain doll with round cheeks and pale wisps of hair. She was his little baby, and he adored her.

And at first, of course there was the natural sibling jealousy. Come on, Dad, can't you check over my homework? Molly's just playing in her jumper. You promised you would come see the class play, Mom, can't you find somebody else to watch Molly? Look, Mom, look Dad! I got all A's on my report card for the semester. Oh yeah, look at that, Molly's clapping and stuffing a sock in her mouth. Isn't that just cute.

Then he got older, and it never seemed to go away no matter what he did. He'd be the best brother he could, he helped with the new baby in the house, he ignored the fact his parents almost forgot about him whenever Molly was around. It was natural now, and he was used to it.

Eighth grade and he got his first crush. Too bad for him it was a boy. Also too bad for him Molly saw them kissing.

Guess it was just too bad when Molly brought up boys kissing boys at dinner, that his Dad ranted for an hour about disgusting vile creatures that should all be shot. Yeah, thanks Molly.

But Molly was perfect. Molly was normal. She did everything perfectly. Walked, talked, smiled, giggled, chased the boys her age, got the perfect grades, and had everyone gush about how perfect she was. It was always like that with Molly.

Then he came out. Dad hated him, despised who he was and was disgusted. He and Mom divorced. Mom was disappointed in him because of Brian. She was disappointed he wasn't straight and could have a 'normal' life. His family fell apart, and it was his fault.

But Dad still loved Molly completely. Mom still did everything she could for perfect Molly, her only normal child. Molly got her first boyfriend, and he found out how _happy _his parents were. Yeah, good for you, Molly.

Molly could do no wrong. Even when she was fourteen and ended up getting smashed at a friends' house and called him in the middle of the night, reeking of alcohol when he picked her up and vomiting all night at his and Brian's house. When she never came home and his Mother was just so _worried_ about her girl, even though he had called her the night before to tell her he had Molly.

Even when she was sixteen and when she was sent home from summer camp for being caught having sex with one of the—older—counselors, and a pierced belly button, eyebrow, and nose. He was pretty sure she had her nipple pierced too, but some things, he just didn't want to know.

But Molly was still perfect. She was grounded for a week, and, because she was so worried about her getting an infection since she pierced everything herself, Mom took her to get everything professionally done. Way to stick it to her, Mom.

No matter what she did, Molly was perfect. Straight, beautiful, loved, perfect Molly. Mommy and Daddy will always love you, you're our little girl. No matter what you do, you're our wonderful Molly.

Yeah. Perfect fucking Molly.

In some ways, Vic was jealous of his sister.

He loved her, for the longest time she was his best friend, but even when she was pregnant and alone with Michael, she always had it easy. It was just who she was, who she always had been. She faced the world with her shoulders back; her head help high, and loved who she was. He was jealous of her certainty, of her confidence.

He was jealous of her having someone to love her unconditionally. She had little Michael, her little man. He always wished he had that.

What he was always slightly jealous of, though, was her health. She never had to worry that if she caught a slight cold she could end up in the hospital, close to dying. That she didn't have to worry about going to sleep because she was afraid she wouldn't wake up. That she didn't have to worry about what could be happening inside her own body, about if eventually she wouldn't be there to finish living to see the ones she love live.

It was a slap in the face, and a punch straight to the chest when he thought about it. Because he loved his sister, but sometimes he was just a little bit more jealous than the last time he thought about it.

It hurt sometimes, watching them. Brian and Justin.

They just didn't know how good they had it, how rare it was to find someone who could understand you so completely, flaws and all, and still love and want you like they did.

Emmett wished he had that. He wished he had what Ben and Michael had, though it wasn't anything compared to Brian and Justin. Or even what Teddy and Blake had.

They all had someone who was always there. Who loved them no matter what, and so thoroughly. Emmett could never find that. It hurt, a little bit, whenever he saw them.

It hurt a little bit too, when he realized he would probably never find that. So he watched a little bit jealously.

Brian was slightly jealous of the people around him. But not for the reasons some would think. Michael with his happy childhood, Emmett with his ever lasting confidence, Ted with his security and intelligence, Justin with his Mother who loved him completely, Lindsay and Mel and what they had.

He was jealous of how open they could be. With everything they were and felt. He was jealous of their courage.

He would love to kiss Justin and love him like he should be, and treat him like he should be, and make him smile instead of frown and cry and hurt him. But he was afraid of being left behind, of hurting himself. He was afraid, so he let Gus do all the loving for him.

He wanted to be the father he knows he could be to Gus, to be so involved in his life Gus would never doubt he was a permanent fixture. But he was afraid of getting too close and having Mel and Lindsay do something to take him away, or afraid he would fail his son somehow, and all the 'I told you so' expressions around him, and everyone look at him like they expected it to happen, eventually.

He wanted to tell Mikey how proud he was of him. That he got what he always wanted, and happy that he was happy. He wanted to show him how fucking thankful Brian was for him. But Brian was afraid Mikey would always treat him differently for it, since Brian ruined that image Mikey had of him.

He wanted to do all that and more, and be as open hearted as Justin and as trusting as Mikey and as happy as Emmett or be able to love Justin like Mel and Lindsay loved each other. But he was afraid. And so, he was jealous.

**Uhm… Anyone still reading this?**

**Right. So yeah, I'm not going to pile excuse on top of excuse, because. Well. I read somewhere that an excuse was just a lie all prettied up. So yeah.**

**But I will say, I cannot wait for the Hols to be over. Seriously.**

**To anyone who reviewed the last chapter, you rule. And anyone who is reading this still, you're amazing, and why I keep writing. **

**I'll try to update when I can, but I'm not too sure if it will be anytime before New Years. So no promises.**

**Thanks, all. And have a Happy Holiday, whatever you celebrate. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Go ahead; throw rotten fruit, pelt me with moldy vegetables, do as you please. I simply beg forgiveness. And reviews, though I'm not deserving of them. **

**Seriously, is anyone still willing to even read this thing? Sheesh. **

**But I should be updating weekly now! Real life has finally chilled a bit and I can give a bit of my time towards finally finishing this damn thing. **

**Anyway. **_**I do not own Queer as Folk, nor do I own any recognizable characters therein. I simply use them for my own entertainment and gain, and to march them around like my own puppets for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment for others. **_

**K is for Keepsakes **

Nobody really knew it, but Brian was a bit of a pack rat.

It's not that he kept things out in the open where everything cluttered on every available surface. But when it came to certain things he… hid them. In the back of his closet. Behind all of the Armani shoes no one with an ounce of sanity would dare to touch.

Justin had a small degree of sanity, but some suspicious inkling in Brian told him that Justin knew what was in the back of his closet. But neither of them mentioned it. And Brian was perfectly fine with that.

It's not that they were just _thing _of no value. They did have value. To him, anyway. They were just things he had never been able to throw away, and they had more or less accumulated in number over the years.

When he'd moved in with Mikey when he was fourteen, he'd never been able to get rid of his baby blanket or his first A plus paper. A bit embarrassing, but no big deal. It was a piece of paper and a worn blanket that his mother had knitted for him before she ever got to know how much she disliked him.

So he hid it where he was sure nobody would find it.

Over the years that pile grew. First straight A report card, first thing that Deb had ever bought for him, a baseball Vic had given him, and a few pictures. Not a big deal. It was just stuff. So the fuck what if he didn't throw it away? It was nobody else's business besides his own. Which was why nobody needed to see it.

It didn't really grow after high school. Nothing was really important enough to put in there, and he had found that the ability to throw things of his away became easier and easier as the years passed. But he could never throw any of the things in the box away, no matter how much he tried.

Then his Sonny Boy was born. He wasn't supposed to get attached; he wasn't even supposed to be in the kid's life really. But fuck if that little squirmy thing in the hospital didn't get to him as much as that blonde insistent Twink did. He was just so _small. _And sure, Brian had seen Lindsay plenty whilst she was pregnant, but it hadn't really sunk in that _that was his kid. _That boy was his, was a part of him and who Brian was.

Brian didn't really know why he took the hospital blanket that Gus was wrapped in. But he also didn't know why he couldn't throw it away; so he put it in the box in the back of his closet.

The number of things grew once again. The first drawing of Justin's he had left at Brian's loft, a binky of Gus' that Lindsay had dropped at his place and _no, Linds, he hadn't seen it anywhere, but doesn't the kid have a million of the damn things anyway? _Little things, here and there that he found himself keeping and hiding away guiltily despite the fact that it was just stuff. Not a big deal.

Of course he kept the picture Justin had drawn of him. It went right up there in the box. And he never took it down again, because the first time he saw it he felt his stomach clench as he told himself he was just doing the other man a favor in buying it, it meant nothing at all. He didn't like the way it made him feel, because he was Brian Kinney, and he didn't feel a damn thing unless he said so. So he put it up there with the rest of the _stuff that didn't even matter, he just kept it unless it was needed, it wasn't a big deal. _

He kept the first pair of shoes Gus outgrew. And everyone knew Brian was a hoarder when it came to clothes, so that eased his mind somewhat when he put the shoes in his nearing-full box one day when Justin wasn't there.

It was just stuff. Didn't matter. The spare key to Mikey's comic book store that he accidentally swiped? Just a key.

The printed picture Lindsay had given to him of Justin and his son sleeping on the couch together that had tugged at Brian's gut despite himself? It was just a picture.

One of Deb's many rings.

Lindsay's favorite scarf.

The first printed edition of Rage.

One of Justin's paint-stained t-shirts.

Little things here and there. Just stuff. No big deal.

Some things he longed to throw away. The scarf that carried Justin's blood on it, that faded from white and red to yellowed and brown. He hated the thing but could never get rid of it. Ever.

The ball that he and Justin had thrown back and forth for hours, as Sunshine had tried to regain control of his hand.

The unfinished scribbling's of Justin's as he thrived to draw.

Some things he treasured. Gus' first drawing for him. Every little gift Justin had ever given him. The first painting Justin had finished without stopping because he needed to.

But they were little things. Just stuff. No big deal. Not important, really. Brian Kinney didn't do shit like 'keepsakes'.

He just kept the things he couldn't throw away.


	12. Chapter 12

**So, yeah. Remember those weekly updates I was talking about? Don't pay any attention to me, I am a liar of the worst sort. **

**So, tentatively, I'm gonna say I'll try to get this up next week. But once again, I am a liar of the worst sorts, so no lynch mobs if it doesn't happen!**

**Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me, and to those of you who are just now joining the party. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Queer as Folk. Nor do I own any of its characters. I also do not own any of the songs used in this piece, for I am not that talented. I also don't have that kind of money. **

**L is for Lullaby**

Brian laid with his ear pressed against the wall, listening to the quiet hum of his mother on the other side, singing hymns. He could picture her kneeling at the edge of her bed, her hands tied up in her rosary and her head bowed as she rocked to the rhythm. He heard her hiccough between some of the lines, and he quickly added her shoulders shaking and a bruise lining her eye to his mental image.

He heard footsteps in the hallway, heavy and unsteady. The humming stopped. The footsteps continued on, past the bedroom doors and down into the living room. The loud creak of the recliner filled the house, then the quiet static of the television. The humming picked back up, more tentatively than before.

His head ached, and his muscles felt stiff. His mouth was swollen, and when Brian pressed his tongue to his lip, he felt a sharp sting that made him hiss quietly. His mother's hymns regained a steady stream.

Brian curled an inch closer to the wall, clenching his eyes shut when his whole body protested the movement. But this way, he ear pressed more firmly to the thin barrier separating him from his mother's soothing song.

_"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound. Amazing love, now flowing down from hands and feet that were nailed to the tree, as grace flows down and covers me. Amazing Grace."_

Brian fazed in and out, eyes slipping open and closed. He didn't know how long he laid there, in a sort of half-sleep, but his eyes opened fully when the singing stopped. He heard his mother's choked breath, and then he heard the footsteps in the hallway once more. They stopped outside his door, and Brian let his eyes fall shut, even as his heart stuttered.

The door opened, and his father stood in the doorway. Even while Brian whimpered and cried, he could hear his mother's voice start to sing again, loudly enough to fall between the walls. He imagined she had her hands covering her ears as she sang.

_"Savior One, Holy One, slain so I can live. See the Lamb, the great I Am, who takes away my sin. Oh the blood of the Lamb, the precious blood of the Lamb, what a sacrifice that saved my life. Yes, the blood. It is my victory."_

xXx

"Justin, it is bed time, how many times do I have to tell you?"

Justin groaned, flopping back onto his bed with his arms splayed wide. He glared up at his Mom. "But Mama," he whined. "I don't wanna go to bed; it's too early!"

His Mama sighed, running her hand through her hair. She pulled Justin's Power Rangers blanket over him, despite his squirming. "Not for little boys who have Kindergarten tomorrow," she said. "Now scoot over, or I won't sing to you tonight."

Justin tried to figure out if it was worth it to keep fighting sleep. If he did, his Mama wouldn't sing to him. He'd probably have to stay in his room, too. But if he laid down and was good… He'd get a song.

Justin scooted over, but he scowled while he did so.

His Mom smiled at him, tickling his side, making Justin giggle. "Good boy. What do you want to hear tonight? And only one song, Justin. And then it's bedtime."

Justin thought long and hard about what he wanted his Mama to sing to him. He bit his lip and stared at his ceiling, where his glow in the dark stars and planets were.

"How about Wild World?" His Mama suggested gently. Justin considered this, then nodded eagerly. He rolled over onto his side, his back facing his Mom. He felt her hand brush through his hair, and he closed his eyes as she started to sing.

_"Now that I've lost everything to you, you say you wanna start something new. And it's breaking my heart you're leaving, baby I'm grieving. But if you wanna leave, take good care, I hope you have a lot of nice things to wear, but then a lot of nice things turn bad out there. Oh, baby, baby it's a wild world…"_

And like every other night, Justin fell asleep before his Mom could even get to the second verse.

xXx

"Okay?" Papa whispered, and Gus nodded, smiling softly. His Papa sat right in front of his lamp, and it lit up his hair like an angels. Gus nuzzled closer to him until his Papa rubbed his back.

"Where's Daddy?" Gus whispered back.

"He'll be home soon. But we have to get up early, and it's time for you to go to bed." His hand paused. "Why are we whispering?"

Gus giggled, and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. 'Cause it's bedtime?"

His Papa let out a soft laugh. "Okay then. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Gus cuddled in closer. "Are you gonna sing the one about ice cream castles?"

"Sure, kiddo. I'll sing that one." And in a hushed voice, his Papa sang and Gus let his eyes wander over his room. _"Rows and flows of angel hair, and ice cream castles in the air. And feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way. But now they only block the sun. They rain and snow on everyone. So many things I would have done, clouds got in my way. I've looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down and still somehow it's cloud illusions I recall. I really don't know clouds at all."_

Gus smiled, and heard the front door open. He sighed happily when he heard his Daddy putting his keys on the table, and his Papa never paused in rubbing his back or singing.

_"Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels. The dizzy dancing way that you feel as every fairy tale comes real, I've looked at love that way. But now it's just another show, and you leave 'em laughing when you go. And if you care, don't let them know. Don't give yourself away. I've looked at love from both sides now, from give and take, and still somehow it's love's illusions I recall. I really don't know love, really don't know love at all."_

His Daddy's footsteps came up the stairs and toward his room. When his Daddy opened the door, Gus smiled tiredly and waved his hand at him from where it was resting on his Papa's knees. His Daddy propped his shoulder against the doorframe and folded his arms, waving his fingers back at Gus slowly. Gus saw his Daddy smile at Justin, who never stopped singing.

_"Tears and fears and feeling proud. To say "I love you" right out loud. Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way. Oh but now old friends they're acting strange, and they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed. Well something's lost but something's gained in living every day."_

Gus' eyes slid closed, his mind getting fuzzy and his Papa's words more muffled as he finished and Gus slowly fell asleep.

_"I've looked at life from both sides now, from win and lose and still somehow it's life's illusions I recall. I really don't know life at all. It's life's illusions I recall, I really don't know life, I really don't know life at all."_

xXx

"Hey there, baby," Deb whispered, perching her hip in the side of his bed. Vic smiled softly at her in greeting. He felt her fingers wrap around his hand, and hold it softly.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes kind but her smile sad. "You tired?"

That was a word for it, Vic thought. Exhausted. Bone-deep weary. But tired was a word. So he nodded slowly.

They were both quiet for a long few moments, neither of them saying anything and simply letting the stillness of the room speak for itself. When it just felt as if it were getting to be too suffocating and Vic was considering trying to squeeze his sister's hand, Deb spoke.

"Do you want me to sing for you?" She asked softly. Vic, having not heard anything he would like more than that for too long, nodded again. "The one Mama used to sing?" Another nod. When Deb sang, her singing voice was just as rough as her speaking voice, though much more quiet. To Vic, he'd never heard anything sweeter.

_"One day you'll look to see I've gone. For tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. Someday you'll know I was the one, but tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. And now the time has come and so my love I must go, and though I lose a friend in the end you will know, oh. One day you'll find that I have gone but tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. Yeah, tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. And now the time has come, and so my love I must go. And though I lose a friend in the end you'll know, oh. One day you'll find that I have gone, but tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun."_

Vic closed his eyes to the sound of his sister's voice, and with her hand clasped in his.

**Songs Used:**

**Grace Flows Down**

**Wild World (Cat Stevens)**

**Both Sides Now (Hayley Westernra Version)**

**I'll follow the Sun (The Beatles)**

**See you guys next week! (Hopefully) **

**:)**


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